While Kai is practicing for a 10K marathon, I am deep-cleaning the bedroom because he complained the dust triggered his allergies and interfered with training.  After nudging the massive oak dresser away from the corner, there was a strange item. One earring, not mine.

Examining it, I think, “You had a mate once. You were a pair, lying together in pillowy luxury.” A dusty ornament is a bit pathetic.  Single and incomplete, a lonesome leftover.  Is there a chance it was forgotten by a previous tenant?
Kai pokes fun at costume jewelry so I had to discard my entire old collection, even souvenirs from memorable excursions.  But even if an earring is a precious metal, he won’t make love to me with these on. One of his foibles.

Though it’s annoying, I’ve learned to remove my earrings at bedtime and swoosh them in a liquid cleaner.  Forces me to rotate my pretty birthday gifts instead of my lazy habit of wearing the same pair all week is how I’ve learned to look at it.

My older sister, married to a guy who keeps her in style, advises me how to get along better with Kai.  Monica says, “Instead of minding his quirks, learn to mine the benefits.”

So when Kai forbid me to buy my favorite face cream because it’s tested on rabbits, Monica suggested switching to a more expensive brand. My sister urges me to see the benefits of giving in without giving up, at least until I finish my degree and apply for jobs. That’s eight months away. Meanwhile, she encourages less conversation and more care with birth control. Easy when you have a husband who travels a lot, like Monica’s.

But strategic talk is useful. Reminding Kai how much he dislikes fakes——“Cheap jewelry, cheap women,” is how he puts it——helped me assemble a reassuring collection of chic earlobe tinsel and a diamond pair to mark five years together. A pair with secure attachments.

Where did this earring come from? Dusting it off, I scrutinize it under a bright reading light and decide the blue stones are not real turquoise. Why does it look familiar?

It’s a fish hook type——easy to lose these——and now I remember. Vacuuming the car last month, I found another orphaned hook earring under the backseat. Kai brushed it off, saying he had given some of his students a ride. When we threw it away, I felt he was assuring me this belonged to no one special.

Holding this faux turquoise dangler by my ear, I notice how it attracts the light. Especially if a woman has long hair, the fish hook would get tangled and fall off. Easing the dresser back in place with my right shoulder, I try to picture some of Kai’s students. Which one has long hair? Who’s the most attractive?

And yet lately he’s stopped noticing if I wear jewelry to bed. How funny that he broke me out of my lazy routine even though I couldn’t talk Kai out of his pet peeve——until his stubbornness gave way for no reason.

Making the bed, I stretch my arms, trying to release a litany of complaints like tears withheld. Everything seem to annoy him: my talking to Monica, buying a GMO apple, waiting too long to shut a faucet, not sharpening the pencils we keep in the den. According to Kai, his day is filled with distractions and danger and, if I’m not shielding him, it’s proof I don’t love him enough.

Before he returns, I rifle through drawers to find a box to house the earring. Under his shorts, a stack of pictures from school events winks. I fan them out on a desk. One female appears more often than others, invariably right next to Kai. Large dangling cheapies mark her as Miss Missing Earring.

I speed-dial Monica. “Pack a bag, enough for a week. Bring the photos.” Fifteen minutes later I’m gone.